A Rustler s Conscience 



PEOPLE who go through the Yellow- 

 stone country nowaday know little 

 of what that trip meant before the time of 

 the railroad. Four of us made the jour- 

 ney : the Parson, Old Silurian, the Unsalted, 

 and the Tramp ; in other words, a city 

 clergyman, a professor of geology, a young 

 collegian, and myself. There was but an 

 apology for a road, and we had to get 

 down and pull logs out of the way to get 

 through. At one point we had no road 

 but a river-bed, and followed it through 

 a canon. At night we camped wherever 

 there was tent room, and the frost nipped 

 our toes through our blankets. "Toot," 

 our factotum, and "Al," his brother, 

 keeper, also, of the Coyote saloon in Boze- 

 man, were famous hunters, fishermen, and 

 cooks, steady drivers, astonishing drinkers, 

 and they liked to use bad language and 



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